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poem for pastors

não pendure nenhuma grinalda
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
nós colocamos
têm você ouvido
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
agora quando meus bordos viverem
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
homem frio stern

 



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